


I'll Follow You (into the light)

by DeyaAmaya



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Doctor!Andrew, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Paramedic!Neil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 02:39:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17034942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeyaAmaya/pseuds/DeyaAmaya
Summary: Neil is a paramedic in a rainy city. Andrew will be gone in a few months. And Stuart Hatford just wants Neil to find a date.





	I'll Follow You (into the light)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second entry for the AFTG winter exchange, 2018. This here is for Neyu. I picked fake dating because I felt I couldn't do the other options any justice. I'm not exactly proud of this fic, but I don't completely hate it either. I hope they're not too disappointed *sweats*

For [Neyu/Requiemofkings](http://requiemofkings.tumblr.com/)

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Josten's lips look painful.  
  
A curl of smoke escapes, blurring Andrew's vision momentarily. Josten tightens his lips, taking another drag. Licking over dry lips, wincing.  
  
_Idiot_ , Andrew thinks. But he can't look away. His eyes linger on the angry red line splitting Josten's lower lip. He wants to tap a thumb on it, see if it actually bleeds.  
  
Josten's paramedic uniform is disheveled today even more than usual.  
  
'Jesus christ, Josten. You look homeless.'  
  
That gets a distracted smile. Usually he would snap at Andrew. Josten's family is loaded. But he doesn't like to be reminded of it.  
  
Andrew studies the hunched over posture, the crease between his eyebrows, the restless twitch of his fingers. 'What's crawled up your knickers?' he grits out.  
  
Small talk. He hates it.  
  
Josten looks at him, startled. Andrew doesn't usually probe. He exhales in a messy cloud, head tipping back.  
  
'Drama at home. Uncle Stuart just-' he takes another drag from the cigarette. That is unusual too. He tends to let it burn out by itself. Andrew remembers, why.  
  
Andrew remembers,  the first time Neil Josten spilled his guts in front of him. Shaking like a leaf on the emergency floor mere seconds after the last grotesque corpse had been taken away. Josten had done a good job with the rescues from a burning house. But it just wasn't good enough.  
  
There hadn't been anyone else that night, anyone else to watch Neil Josten break apart at the seams. No one else to put him back together either. So Andrew offered a truth for a truth. A dozen truths exchanged became a confession that sunk it's claws into Andrew's brain, there to stay.  
  
Nights full of cigarette smoke followed that incident. Andrew always stole a few moments at night, knowing Josten would be working the graveyard shift. Andrew has never seen him in daylight.  
  
At this time of night, even London's ever present bustle is hushed. Dawn would be breaking in a half hour or so, and Josten would be-  
  
Andrew checks besides him. Yup, he's gone. It's nothing new. He slinks away after a cigarette or two. Andrew misses his departure most days. In ten minutes, Andrew will be back in the general ward. Maybe he will look out of a window. Josten will be back in street clothes and waiting for his ridiculously expensive car. The chauffeur will insist on holding the door open. Josten will bicker about it. It was as regular as clockwork.  
  
What could be wrong at his home, Andrew wonders for a minute. He chases the thought away. It was irrelevant. Josten was nothing. And Andrew would be gone in a few months anyway.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Neil gets home, the sky is a lovely shade of pink. He undresses slowly, about to crash from his Adrenalin high. The nicotine fix he got with Andrew the only thing keeping him awake.  
  
Speaking of Andrew....  
  
Neil groans. He couldn't say it, _again_.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Family is such a troublesome thing, Neil thinks as he wakes up in the afternoon and digs out 'acceptable clothes' from his closet. Every Sunday he has to sit with Stuart Hatford and the family (cough*Mafia*cough). Every sunday, Stuart needles him to find a better flat (it's not like you can't afford it), a better job (Uncle, I like my job), or a girlfriend (I don't care if you don't swing, Nate, just let me introduce you to Mr, XYZ's girl)  
  
Lately, Stuart's insistence about the latter topic was bordering on obsessive, effect of the impending holidays, perhaps.  
  
But Neil doesn't want to date. He doesn't want to talk to someone on the phone for hours, doesn't want to take selfies, doesn't want to be tied up in this city full of too many people.  
  
He looks at the corner of his closet. His duffel bag with six sets of outfit, dry food,  weapons and his prized binder.  
  
He's been in London for four years, he's been repacking the duffel once a month.  
  
Neil isn't meant to be tied down. He won't let anyone tie him down.  
  
He has to ask Andrew.  
  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

London is rainy as fuck, Andrew thinks. It irritates him way too much, tips of his ears and nose turning red and numb. The cigarette smoke does nothing to dispel the cold.  
  
Besides him,  Kevin is drinking, again.  
  
Andrew could, should, report him for drinking in the premises, but Kevin's shift ended already. The trauma surgeon needs to resort to alcohol to keep himself sane, sometimes. Andrew mostly doesn't care to get him in trouble.  
  
Neil appears out of the drizzle, like a ghost. His fiery curls are darker, wet as they are. The previous day's mood still hasn't left him, it seems to Andrew. His eyes are darting about, settling on Kevin for a few seconds, then slips towards Andrew.  
  
'I need a favor,' he starts, hesitant, as if he knows how ridiculous this is.

(Neil doesn't really need to ask. Andrew already knows he would do whatever Neil wants of him, a fact that irritates him to no end.)

  
'I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for a few days.'

Kevin chokes. Andrew stills and looks at Neil.  
  
Neil doesn't wilt at Andrew's glare. He explains his predicament with Stuart Hatford and the family. He's looking so resentful and frustrated that Andrew believes him.  
  
A bad idea, probably. But it does seem harmless. Neil just needs him to pretend for a few days. Stuart Hatford will leave the country for a while after the Holidays,  by that time Josten will find some other measure. So that's 5-6 Sundays, at best.  
  
'What do I get out of it?' Andrew demands.  
  
'Apart from free dinners and desert?' The idiot snaps at him. Andrew glares, unimpressed. Neil sighs.  
  
'What do you want?'  
  
Andrew exhales, contemplating. This has a lot of potentials, really. He smirked, a plan unfurling in his mind.  
  
'I don't like that look on you face one bit.' Josten said. 'You look like a-'  
  
'Monster?' Andrew said casually, ignoring the black tar-life emotion clogging his tongue.  
  
'A diabolical villain, actually.' Neil says. 'I gotta go, let me know by Friday what you decide, hmm?'  
  
With that, Neil turned to leave. That was a first, Andrew thought. Usually he left unnoticed. This time though, Andrew noticed. Oh, did he _notice_.  
  
(Neil Josten in wet, clinging trousers. Hello, new favorite fantasy)  
  
Andrew was fucked.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Neil liked to think he was aloof and mysterious,  Matt thinks. But he's really a soft toy. A chewed up one, but still soft.  
  
He was also predictable.  
  
Neil had a routine,  Matt knew. He doubted Neil even recognized the patterns in his behavior. He was pissed every Monday. It got better around Wednesday, then plunged again on Friday. Matt knew he hated the Dinner at the Hatford manor.  
  
Which is why it perplexed Matt when Neil's mood seemed light throughout the whole week. He was even humming along the radio. Matt asked him.  
  
'W-what?'  
  
'I said, who are you and what have you done to my best friend?'  
  
Neil stared at Matt, a blush rising on his face.  
  
'B-best friend?'  
  
Bloody hell.  
  
'Yes, Neil. You're my best friend. I thought it was obvious?'  
  
A thought occurred to him just then. 'Unless you don't want me to-'  
  
'No!' Neil's eyes were impossible wide. 'I mean yes! I- you're my best friend too, Matt.'  
  
'I'm your only friend, midget. ' Matt said affectionately, ruffling Neil's hair. That got him a grumble.  
  
'Seriously though, what's got you in a good mood? Don't you hate Sundays?'  
  
Neil grinned mischievously. 'I've got a date this week.'  
  
The day just keeps getting better! 'Someone finally broke the Ice Queen! Who's the lucky girl?'  
  
Neil narrowed his eyes at him. 'Ice queen? What's- Never mind, it's just Andrew.'  
  
'Andrew? ANDREW? You mean the surgeon, Andrew Minyard? That Andrew?'  
  
'Yes obviously THAT Andrew, Matthew,' Neil sighed. 'What other Andrew do I know?'  
  
‘You’re dating the monster now?’

'Fake dating,' Neil corrected him. 'Don't call him a monster. It's just for the holidays. I can tell Uncle Stuart that we broke up, after New years or something.'  
  
_Fake dating_. Matt was having a hard time wrapping his head around the idea. Anyone who had eyes in their head could see how Andrew Minyard looked at Neil, and there was nothing _fake_ about it. Neil was so fucking clueless.  
  
Matt pouted. 'If you just needed a Fake Boyfriend you could've asked me? Or even Kevin? Why Mr. McFuckOffFace?'  
  
'Oh fuck off Matt. Uncle Stuart knows you AND your fiance. And Kevin's going to Marseilles for the holidays.'  
  
'I still don't approve of Minyard,' Matt said. 'But good luck with the Dinner, I guess.'

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  
Andrew watched as Stuart Hatford got redder and redder. _Like a lobster_ , he mused.  
  
It had started at the door. Andrew was dressed semi-formally as per Neil's request, black shirt, tie and jeans. Neil was in a well worn suit. They arrived together  and Uncle Stuart had answered the door himself. From his reactions, it was obvious he'd expected a woman to accompany Josten.  
  
How boring, Andrew thinks, sitting at the lavishly decorated dining table.  
  
Neil is quite oblivious to his uncle's apparent ire. He's more interested in watching the others. And the exits.  
  
_Runaway_ , Andrew's mind supplies. But he appreciates it, especially because most of the men look like they are packing.  
  
Actually,  Andrew is pretty sure Neil is packing, too. There's a faint bulge under his Dove grey jacket. Andrew tries not to stare. The color makes the blue eyes bright as stars.  
  
The food is amazing, the pudding more so. Andrew takes three helpings plus Neil's portion. Then he's being unceremoniously ushered out by the redhead.  
  
'We should get going while he's still drunk, ' Neil mutters.  
  
Sure enough, Stuart Hatford is pleasantly drunk. Neil goes to say his goodbyes and has to endure a few minutes of tearful tirade from the oldie. Andrew waits. Neil gets back with a murderous look.  
  
'What,' Andrew says as he's settling behind the wheel. 'Does he not appreciate your shiny new love life?'  
  
'He said it doesn't count, since you have a cock.' Neil says bluntly, his face scrunched up.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It's another friday, and Neil, in between restocking the Emergency ambulance, tries to solve a dilemma. Another scheduled Sunday Dinner at the Hatford's was approaching. Should he take Andrew? Matt doesn’t really have an answer for him.  
  
Matt handed him a roll of bandages that Neil tucked into its proper place, then dusted off his hands.  
  
Matt gets behind the wheel, waiting for Neil to climb up besides him. The night is stone-cold and he turns on the heater happily.  
  
He doesn't chatter as usual, mindful of Neil's melancholy. In the quiet night, the ringtone of Neil's phone is sharp as a heart attack.

Neil swears and fumbles it out, answering in a distinctive snipe. Over the engine's rumble, Matt can hear a posh London accent. That and Neil's face contorting in icy fury tells him who the caller is.  
  
'-think I'm satisfied-’

  
'You told me to get a date and I did!' Neil shouts into the phone. Matt doesn't hear the next part Stuart says as a sedan honks past. But after that Neil is sitting up straighter on his sit and gritting out 'No! Uncle, there's absolutely no-'  
He cuts of mid rant and lowers the glass of his window, chucking the phone out. There's a distinct crunch of plastic getting crushed under tires.  
  
Matt lets him seethe. Only after they're done with the shift does he ask Neil about the call. His temper has cooled hours ago, leaving behind frustration.  
  
'He doesn't approve of Andrew, so he's going to set me up with some Russian turd's daughter.'

This is better than Netflix, Matt thinks. 'What are you going to do?'  
  
Neil is already taking off towards the outer garden of the hospital complex, to meet Andrew and Kevin like he does everyday, right around dawn. He stops, clutching his lighter hard enough that his knuckles turn white.  
  
'I'm going with Andrew.'  
  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neil and Andrew go together.  
  
Stuart Hatford turns red, again. The other relatives also seem colder towards Andrew. The first week, they were all boisterous around him, perhaps hoping to scare him away.  
  
Andrew isn't scared, easily. He watches as the russian daughter- Mira Yakov- tries and fails to capture Neil's attention. Andrew has to give her brownie points for trying. Her technique would've worked on any hot-blooded male.  
  
Neil, not so much.  
  
Even in the brightly lit dining room, he remains shadowed, like a whiff of smoke. He's a pipe dream that will dissipate in the air at sunrise, Andrew thinks.  
  
Stuart gets drunk again. Andrew can see a pattern here. Neil stomps out and waits for Andrew.  
  
Andrew brushes past him.  
  
'Ready for the payment?' He taunts.  
  
The glare he receives is half hearted at best. Looks like Neil is just happy to get away from the Hatfords.  
  
Wait till he meets Nicky. He'll run back to the Hatfords in no time.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Andrew was wrong.  
  
Neil is visibly squeamish when they reach Andrew's flat and Nicky squeals at seeing him.  
  
'You must be Neil! OH MY GOD you're a cutie! Andrew has taste!'  
  
A glare from Andrew has him backing off. It eases Neil a bit. But the idiot plays his role as Andrew's boyfriend rather well. He recites the fabricated backstory verbatim. 'We met at work... Andrew asked me out... We had coffee... ' lies upon lies. He lies as good as he does CPR.  
  
Neil doesn't stay for long, even though his shift isn't till tomorrow evening. Andrew watches his smile get more and more strained. He's had too much human interaction today, much like Andrew himself. He offers to walk him to the nearest tube Station.  
  
Neil is quiet the whole way. His red nose tucked inside a thick scarf, breath coming out in puffs of frozen cloud. Halfway through, he turns to Andrew.  
  
'This is far enough,' he says, soft. 'Nicky and Erik will don't have to know you didn't walk all the way.'  
  
Andrew watches him. There really isn't any reason for him to go further. Neil would be fine on his own.  
  
Yet, he almost calls the man back as he turns his back to Andrew and keeps walking. Almost runs and catches up with him.  
  
_Almost._  
  
He takes to long way home.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

'You two should go on a date or something.' Kevin suggests.  
  
A lesser man would've spluttered, or fumbled. Andrew expertly ties off the last stitch on his patient's skin.  
  
'Really? Right in front of my appendectomy?'  
  
'It's already done.' Kevin says with his usual snotty air. 'I'm talking about you and Neil. You guys don't look like a couple. You've just been to that rich guy's place for dinner. That's not convincing at all.'  
  
Andrew hates Kevin at that moment. But he's right. Neil had been diligent in fulfilling his role as Andrew's boyfriend, grudgingly participating in shopping or sightseeing in daytime when Andrew is tied up at work. The least Andrew could do it take him out.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

'Clear your evening. Going clubbing @9'  
  
The phone is new and difficult to navigate.It took Neil a while to understand the text from Andrew. He frowned. Clubbing wasn't something he liked. Too many people. Too high odds of danger.  
  
As if on cue, his phone lights up with another text.  
  
'I'll watch your back'

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
Neil arrives to find Andrew's tiny flat in complete chaos. Nicky is running around, getting dressed and ready like a headless chicken, Erik trying to soothe him to no avail. He spots Neil and waves a hand before running after Nicky again.  
  
Andrew is unaffected and is watching Hell's Kitchen on the telly. He points to a black bag and orders Neil to change, first.  
  
Neil changes into the bathroom, running a hand over the almost sheer black top. It was paired with black jeans with artful rips along the knees, and steel toed combat boots.  
  
He got out of the bathroom and froze.  
  
Andrew was waiting for him, leaning on the opposite wall. He brandished a black tube at Neil.  

'Glitter night at the club,' he said. 'Don't let Nicky get a hold of you.' 

  
Neil was still staring at Andrew. Or, specifically,  the find gold glitter smeared over his cheekbones. They made Andrew's eyes glint like pools of sunlight.  
  
Neil hands the eyeliner tube back to Andrew. 'You better do it. I'm not sure I'll be good with it.'  
  
It was a lie. Neil had used makeup to turn himself into Alex, into Clark, into Jamie before. But he wants to see what Andrew would do.  
  
Andrew's eyes wash over him, thoughtful. He opens the tube and strokes carefully over Neil's face, feather soft. It takes him a few minutes. Then he's brushing past Neil without a word.  
  
Neil turns back to the mirror and is surprised for the second time that night. He takes in the carefully curved lines and curls.  
  
Andrew has outlined his scars in gold. As if they aren't ugly, as if they are sacred.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
This was a bad idea, Andrew thinks, as he watches Neil lose himself in the dance floor.  
  
His movements are nothing to write home about. There isn't any artful seduction, any efforts at flaunting,  there's barely any skin showing.  
  
And yet, Andrew is caught. The music is pulsing like a second heartbeat and Neil falls headfirst into it, closing his eyes and arching his neck back.  
  
Andrew throws back his whiskey. The night blends and blurs and takes him along.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  
Andrew wakes up slowly.

  
  
There is a muted feeling of urgency pressing in his temples that prompts him to open his eyes. For a second he's frozen. The ceiling isn't familiar,  neither is the bed. He feels the first hint of panic rising in his chest, but then-  
  
There is the scent.  
  
It reminds him of the cigarette brand Neil prefers, the powdery smell of his cologne, the tart green apple that he likes to eat and carries around.  
  
He's in Neil's house, isn't he?  
  
The evening's memory comes back to him in a rush. The handsy oaf of a man trying to drag Neil off, Andrew's blind rage, the man's companion kicking Andrew and then getting choked by Neil. Neil's panic attack in the middle of the club.  
  
Andrew rolls his shoulders with a wince. Nothing's broken. But there will be a bruise, tomorrow. He rolls to his side and spots Neil.  
  
He's half hanging out of the only open window of the apartment, letting his cigarette burn out. His face is still smudged with gold, shining in the moonlight. He's wearing an oversize hoodie and not much else, his legs stretching for miles.  
  
Andrew must've shivered, made a noise, because Neil leans back in.  
  
'Sorry,' he says. 'Go back to sleep.' He is picking up a set of keys and tiptoeing out of the studio apartment.  
  
'Where the fuck are you going?'  
  
'I'm sleeping over at Matt's, he's right next door.'  
  
'Why?' Andrew demands. There's a large enough couch right there. Neil catches him looking at it and shrugs.  
  
'You can't sleep if I'm in the room.'  
  
Andrew's confusion must be evident, because Neil scrambles to answer.  
  
'I asked you, last month, why you didn't sleep in the on-call room during a long shift. You told me you can't sleep when strangers are there.'  
  
'You're not a bloody stranger. Get back in and shut the door.'  
  
Neil looks dubious,  but he does as he's told. Andrew throws a pillow at the couch.  
  
'Get the fuck to sleep, Josten.'  


\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
Andrew wakes up for the second time when the sun is just peeking above the horizon. The room is fragrant from the steam escaping from the bathroom. Josten must've finished a shower not long ago. Andrew rolls onto his stomach, hears the door open and close, footsteps disappear in the distance.  
  
He drags himself up, carries off a couple of blankets. He's still wearing last night's clothes and makeup.  
  
Neil's tiny studio apartment has a partial wall separating the kitchen from the 'bedroom'. There Andrew finds a pot of freshly brewed coffee, some Tylenol, the jar of sugar and a handwritten sticky note on a hideous pink mug.  
  
'Thank you for last night. I'm going out for a run. Feel free to use the shower and get something to eat.'  
  
It sounds so much like a one-night stand note that Andrew almost laughs. He takes a couple of Tylenol, washing it down with half the pot of coffee. He cleans the glitter off his face in the sink before leaving.  
  
He doesn't wait for Neil. It's daytime. He doesn't want the reality to mix with the dream. Andrew has been keeping them separate. No need to get them mixed up now.  


\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  
Neil runs. Bass thumping in his ear. Cold creeping into his lungs with every breath. With every step on the asphalt his thoughts become clear and clear.  
  
This has all been a mistake.  
  
Those people in the club, they could've been anyone. They could've been Moriyama. They could've been thugs sent by any of the Hatfords' enemies. What right did Neil have to put Andrew in danger like that? As if Andrew hadn't suffered already in life. He didn't need Neil making it worse.  
  
Why was Neil so stupid?  


\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  
'Thank you for your help with the Hatfords. You were amazing. I'll go by myself from now on.'  
  
The text had been sent hours ago. Andrew only noticed it when he went home after an emergency surgery.  
  
It made no sense to Andrew whatsoever. They'd been planning for the Christmas dinner since the start. Granted, Neil had been unusually quiet ever since being attacked in the club. But Andrew didn't think it made much of a difference.  
  
He was wrong, apparently.  
  
Andrew wants to demand an explanation from him. He wants to drive up to the ridiculous Hatford Manor and go straight up to Stuart Hatford, make him leave Neil alone.  
  
But Neil doesn't want his help anymore. Neil isn't a child. He can handle it, he can handle a lot.  
  
Neil is nothing, Andrew tells himself. He is nothing to Andrew. Neil's a pipe dream, what else did he expect?  
  
Andrew shuts his mind off from thoughts of copper curls and lightning blue eyes, cigarette stuck between a pair of lips, scarred fingers turning a zippo round and round, freckles like cocoa powder on tan skin, eyelashes like soot and-  
  
Andrew does what he should've done weeks ago.  
  
He packs.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  
Matt was feeling extremely useless.  
  
Neil was face-down on his lap, limp as spaghetti. He's been like that ever since he came in, about half an hour ago. He'd been talking and talking and getting morose by the minute.  
  
'Why did you go to the dinners without Andrew if it's making you so miserable.'  
  
'I can't,  Matt. I told you what happened at the club. What if it's trained assassins next time? Kidnappers? Someone with a grudge against Uncle Stuart?'  
  
'Andrew's tough, even I can tell. He can handle it, if that's your only argument.'  
  
Neil rolled to face him. 'I don't want him hurt.'  
  
'Maybe you should date him for real.'  
  
'Don't be ridiculous,  Matt. He doesn't want me.'  
  
Oh. Oh _fuck_. There was a blush creeping along Neil's ruined cheekbones. It was so pretty.  
  
'Mate, I love you, but you're fucking blind. That guy's got a humongous pash on you. Anyone can see that.'  
  
'Wh-what? Don't be a tit, Matthew!'  
  
'Yeah, don't be a tit, Matthew,' Dan echoed. 'Neil doesn't swing. It doesn't matter if Andrew fancies him. Neil doesn't fancy Andrew, right hun?'  
  
Dan and Matt both watched as Neil's face reddened, comprehension dawning.  
  
Dan looked vaguely disturbed. 'So it's like that, huh?'  
  
'I'm afraid so,' Matt agrees. 'Too bad he left.'  
  
Neil's face stilled. 'Who left?'  
  
'Andrew did? Isn't that why you're all mopey?'  
  
Apparently not, because Neil's face turned white as a paper.  
  
'Matt, you didn't tell him?' Dan demanded.  
  
'I thought he knew! Surely Kevin-'  
  
'Kevin's still in France. What do you mean Andrew left? Where did he go? When?'  
  
'Calm down, Neil!'  
  
'Just tell me!'  
  
Neil was hyperventilating at this point, and Matt felt like the world's biggest git.  
  
'Andrew's contract with the Hospital was for a year. It expired on November. He didn't renew and has left the country. Renee told me.' Dan said, gently, putting a hand on Neil's hair.  
  
'Why- he didn't tell me anything?'  
  
'I thought he would renew though?' Dan frowned. 'Wasn't he talking to the HR a few days ago?'  
  
'Must've changed his mind?' Matt shrugged.  
  
'No...'  
  
Neil stood suddenly, walking over to put his shoes back on. 'I'm gonna go run,' he said. 'Thanks for telling me, Dan.'  
  
After he left, Dan slumped besides Matt on the couch, exhaling in a rush.  
  
'Poor baby,' she muttered.  
  
'I feel sorry for both of those oblivious idiots.'  
  
'Let him figure out the rest,' she said. 'He needs to do this on his own.  


\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  
'Kevin'  
  
'Ngh'  
  
'Kevin wake the fuck up.'  
  
'Josten, the fuck? You know what time it is?'  
  
'Kevin, where is Andrew?'  
  
'Oh, fuck. He didn't tell you?'  
  
'Kevin!'  
  
'Okay, wait, wait. Nepal, I think.'  
  
'Okay. Thanks. Go back to sleep.'  
  
'What the- Josten-!'  


\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  
Andrew had left a hoodie at Neil's apartment,  the one time he'd slept over.  
  
Neil has it in his hands. Rubs his fingers on the soft,  well-worn black fabric. Gives up the fight with his dignity and buries his face in it, inhaling.  
  
It smells faintly like bergamot, Andrew's cologne. The scent of smoke lingers, as well as a whiff of whiskey.  
  
Neil misses him. Neil has never had a surgery, not really. He's been attacked and then patched up by Mo- Mary. But never a proper surgery where he volunteered to lay on a table knowing someone was going to cut him open.  
  
Missing Andrew feels like a surgery, he thinks. He'd avoided Andrew. Kept his phone off. Cut him off. Volunteered to feel the pain, in a sense. But nothing had prepared him for the agony of it.  
  
Now Andrew was gone.  
  
The rational part of his mind wants to shy away from the facts. That maybe Andrew's leaving had nothing to do with Neil. That he didn't like Neil, at all. Matt and Dan were wrong, surely. Surely...  
  
But Neil wanted to be sure.  
  
Andrew's absence had left a glaring chasm somewhere inside him. Ironically,  it has also made him think clearer, put things into perspective, helped him set his priorities.  
  
Andrew was quite high on his priorities, but Neil himself was at the top.  
  
His phone rang with a call from Stuart Hatford. Neil swallowed a bubble of laughter.  
  
'Hello, uncle.'  
  
'Nate! Tell me you're not being stupid.'  
  
'I'm afraid I am being stupid, uncle.'  
  
'It's a bad idea to chase after Minyard.'  
  
Neil couldn't quite disguise the bitterness on his voice. 'You knew, too? Does everyone know?'  
  
_Except me_ , he doesn't say.  
  
'He got close to you. I had to keep an eye on him.'  
  
'I need to go, uncle. I can't explain to you why but I need to go. You need to let me go. I'll never marry a girl you like, I can't be what you want me to be. Let me go, please. I promise I won't bother you again. You'll never even see me again.'  
  
'Nathaniel, don't be an idiot,' Stuart sounded gruff. 'You can come back anytime you want. You can ask for help any time you want. You're Mary's kid, you think I'll abandon you?'  
  
Neil feels the first stirring of hope in his chest. 'So you'll let me go?'  
  
'If it makes you happy.'  
  
'I have a feeling it will,' Neil laughs. 'Even if he doesn't want me, I'll get to travel. I've been stuck in one place far too long. I can't live like this. I need to keep moving.'  
  
'Fine,' Stuart sighed. 'See me tomorrow to figure out your papers. And let your cousins take you to shopping.'  
  
'Uncle no!' Neil gasped out, horrified. But he'd disconnected already.  
  
Neil falls into his bed face-first, Andrew's hoodie clutched to his chest. He felt his heart soar.  
  
Andrew. Andrew. He was going to Andrew.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  
The last few years in London city had spoiled Neil, he thinks as his lungs protest to yet another gulp of air, painful as blades inside his airway.  
  
Kevin was wrong about Andrew's whereabouts. He wasn't in Nepal. He was in a tiny village on the border of India and Nepal, deep inside the Singaleela National Forest. The place was impossible to navigate in anyway other than on foot. It had taken Neil three days of walking uphill. His knees were screaming in protest.  
  
But the view. Oh, the view.  
  
The village sat on the intersection of two rivers, cheerfully bubbling down the valley. Around him green mountains blocked out the rest of the world. Across the river a white horse was grazing. Neil couldn't see anything tying it down.  
  
All in all, it looked quite like how he imagined Paradise to be, or a very scenic postcard. Andrew had good taste.  
  
The man himself was somewhere in the sleepy little village. So close. And yet, Neil felt his steps falter.  
  
What if Andrew didn't want him?  
  
Well, he did have a plan B. He would spend the night in the village, camped out on the grass. In the morning he would start walking back to civilization. Maybe he would spend a day in Darjeeling, see what the fuss was about. And then-  
  
Then he would keep going. Survive. Like he always did.  
  
But first, there was a grumpy runaway doctor he needed to see.

  


\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  
Andrew hated the village he'd dropped himself into. There was no wi-fi, no ice cream, barely any sweets of quality, barely any cigarettes of quality, and going anywhere required at least 15 miles of trekking and then riding a jerky jeep down to the tiny town of Sepi. Thank god he was only here for three months. Any more and he would be going insane.  
  
The alcohol here was good enough, he mused, getting his tiny chamber ready for patients. It was mostly old people needing calcium supplements or painkillers, some kids needing cold medicine, and shy women looking for birth control or menstrual products. Astonishingly, the villagers knew some scrapes of English, enough to explain their ailments. The older ones usually brought alone one of the kids who could work as an interpreter.  
  
Andrew was deep in thought planning a sex-ed session for the whole village and re arranging a cabinet when the day's first patient knocked on his door.  
  
'Wait,' he says, climbing off the stepping stool and looking up.  
  
He was hallucinating.  
  
The mountain sickness finally caught up with him, Andrew thinks. He was seeing things. Most trekkers saw the Yeti. Andrew was seeing Neil Josten.  
  
Neil Josten, looking tired and travel-worn, wind-bitten face, heavy backpack.  
  
Neil Josten, in broad daylight.  
  
'Hello, Doctor Minyard,' he grins.  
  
Oh, auditory hallucination too? How unfair. But not impossible.  
  
Neil has lost his smile. He loosens the backpack, sets it down on the stone floor.  
  
'Say something?'  
  
Andrew doesn't say anything. He reaches out a hand to touch the mirage, the hallucination, fully expecting his hand to go through Neil like so much smoke.  
  
Instead, he encounters warm skin.  
  
His fingers ghost over Neil's nose tip, the burn on his cheek, the knife scars, his freckles, his lips, moving to cup his face. Neil leans into his palm. The smile blooms on his face like sunrise.  
  
His eyes are half-lidded, and they're so, so soft and warm, blue eyes really have no business looking so warm.  
  
'I'm here to ask you to let me stay,' Neil starts. 'With you. I would very much like to be with you, if you'll have me.'  
  
Neil swallows and looks down.  
  
'But if you tell me to leave-'  
  
Andrew's stomach clenches, and he puts his other palm on Neil's mouth, cutting him off. Neil watches him, eyes wide.  
  
Neil is here. He's come all this way. For Andrew.  
  
Realization dawns on Andrew like a tidal wave.  
  
_Neil wants him._  
  
Andrew moves his hands to Neil's hair, fingers warming in the red curls.  
  
'I'm going to kiss you know,' Andrew warns him.

  
  
The brush of lips isn't new.  


The soft sigh is. Neil carefully not touching him is.  


'Shoulders,' Andrew mutters between a kiss and the next, then Neil is holding onto him with surprising strength.  


Andrew ends the kiss too soon. No need to give the villagers an eyeful (and a culture shock). Besides, Neil is already blissed out, burying his nose into Andrew's neck. Over his shoulder, Andrew can see the golden afternoon light glinting off the Himalaya.  
  
And suddenly, the little village doesn't seem so bad anymore.

  
  
'Don't ever leave me like that again,' Neil mutters into his neck.  
  
Andrew pinches his side in retaliation. 'You left me first.'  
  
'Oh yeah,' Neil sounds chagrined. 'I guess I did.'  
  
He leans back to look at Andrew, and he's so exquisite in the winter light that Andrew can't believe he's real, even when he's a solid warmth in Andrew's arms.  
  
'Let's not leave each other again, alright?'  
  
As if Andrew can ever deny him anything.  
  
'Deal.'

**Author's Note:**

> Come flame me on tumblr! I'm Andreil-Minyasten.


End file.
